


Clocks

by raulism



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Sex, Soulmate AU, Soulmate-Identifying Timers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-07-18 05:24:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 9,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7301215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raulism/pseuds/raulism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soulmate AU - In which everyone is born with a clock on their wrist counting down until the moment they meet their soulmate.<br/>This is the story of how Rafael Barba met his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue (Him)

He had been two months old, the first time he noticed. His mother was overjoyed, “Look! He can’t stop staring at his clock!” Surely a sign of intelligence to come.

At five years old, she had first tried to explain those flashing numbers on his wrist to him. But he was still easily distractible and he ran away to play with his friends before she could finish.

The next conversation came at fourteen; “Mom, why don’t you or dad have anything on your wrists?” That had been a tough one, trying to explain to him, that if one soulmate betrays the other after they’ve found each other, both clocks disappear.

He hated his father after that. No, he’d _always_ hated his father. Hated that he was the offspring of a man who beat his mother, a man who drank away his every paycheck. A man who had cheated and broken his mother’s heart as well as her nose, arm, and two ribs.

But it was a good lesson, come at the right time. That fragile age when boys are still pliable and still learning how to treat the world. He had sworn, a solemn pact to himself, that he would never hit a woman or child. And he would never betray his soulmate.

He was eighteen, the first time he fell in love. And even though their clock’s didn’t match, he loved her with everything his inexperienced heart could offer. They promised they’d always be together. She promised that she’d wait for him while he went off to Harvard.

Nineteen was when he discovered heart break. She hadn’t waited, had instead decided to love his best friend. He had come home one weekend, a surprise for her, only to find her in bed with Alex. She had sobbed, desperate, “I’m so sorry! But our clocks matched, it was fate, we couldn’t help it!” It was also the year he decided he hated love and soulmates and stupid fucking clocks.

Years twenty-two through twenty-five were busy, he didn’t have any time to visit home, let alone worry about love. He had graduated Harvard, been accepted into their law program, and then graduated again. His mom sat through both of those ceremonies, tears streaming down her face, as she wondered when her baby boy had become such a fine, young man.

Twenty-six, he passed the New York Bar, and was immediately hired by the Brooklyn District Attorney’s Office.

The next decade was a blur of cramped spaces, cups of coffee, too many cases, and never enough sleep. Occasionally he’d look down at his wrist, notice that he still had years to go before meeting his soulmate, not that he believed in such a thing. He’d scoff to himself, that people were so gullible, and ‘thank god’ he wasn’t like that.

He had bigger and better plans, anyway. And he was slowly making a name for himself as a brilliant prosecutor, a man who was capable of victory even with cases everyone else had declared un-winnable.

There were no tears from him, when at thirty, he got the news of his father’s death. He hadn’t wanted to attend the funeral, but he couldn’t hurt his mother like that, so he went and secretly rejoiced as the casket was lowered into the ground.

At thirty-seven, he was promoted to a Manhattan ADA, quickly becoming attached with the Special Victims Unit and their cases. He liked his job, his liked his bigger office, he liked his reputation.

Sometimes, in the dead of night, when loneliness gripped his heart like a vise, he’d let himself dream. He couldn’t help it, not really, as his finger would softly glide over those ever changing numbers. ‘It might be nice,’ he’d think, ‘to have someone always waiting at home.’

But by morning, he was back. He’d slip into his reserved and snarky demeanor in the same way he dressed himself to the nines. His late thirties were comprised only of courtrooms, and scotch, and three piece suits.


	2. Prologue (Her)

When she was born, a cold, rainy night in a Seattle hospital, her clock came with a lower number.

At three, she had become fascinated with her personal countdown. It was rare to find her toddling anywhere without her eyes constantly glued her wrist. “It’s completely normal,” the doctor assured, “some children find the changing numbers soothing.”

She had always been a romantic child, even from an early age. Seven was the year she begged for the story behind the clock every night at bedtime. Her parents always obliged because they loved to tell their own happy ending and they wanted the same for their daughter. Two soulmates forever in love.

On her tenth birthday, she fell off her brand new bike. Utterly distraught, she had raced over, blubbering about the gash running across her wrist. The blood was cleaned up and her skin was stitched and she starting crying again with relief as her number continued steadily counting down.

It was thirteen year old her who figured out she could count back, doing the math to find that she would be twenty-nine when she met her soulmate. She could wait that long for her forever.

Her first love came at sixteen. It was young and sweet and they were happy as they moved through those fragile high school years together. They knew they weren’t soulmates, but they decided that didn’t have to lessen what they felt. Their’s was a friendly breakup; she was staying at the University of Washington and he was leaving for Chicago.

At nineteen, she switched her major to pre-law and graduated three years later. Her parents cried at her ceremony, and again when the acceptance letter from Stanford Law arrived. They’d miss her but she was going to do great things in this world, they could feel it.

So at twenty-two, she packed up everything she owned and headed down the coast. Those were good years for her, full of learning and friendship and happiness. She liked Northern California, liked the weather and the atmosphere. But mostly, she liked her boyfriend.

There were even more tears at her next graduation, as she was named the ‘Salutatorian’ of her law class. Her parents and her family and her boyfriend were proud of her and her accomplishments. All the California law firms noticed her, but she didn’t want any of them, accepting a lower paying position with the San Fransisco ADA’s office at the age of twenty-four. Her parents had hoped she would move home, but she had again found love and the two of them settled in San Francisco.

Their clocks still didn’t match but this time, she didn’t care. She knew she would marry him anyway. Life was good and she was content and she loved her job. Loved being able to help victims, loved the thrill of dismantling a defense, loved the high after a big win.

Heartbreak didn’t come for her until she was twenty-eight. She came home to discover a scene that she didn’t yet know was eerily similar to the one viewed by a young man in New York, almost two decades earlier. There were sobs and screaming, as she told her boyfriend and her best friend to get out of her apartment and out of her life.

It only made it worse for her that the two people she loved most, the two people who had betrayed her, didn’t have matching clocks either.

That was the year she changed, the year she stopped believing. She lost interest in her job, in her numbers, in anything involving the West Coast.

On a warm spring day, in her twenty-ninth year, she again packed up everything she owned, this time moving across the country. She had accepted a position at the top defense firm in Manhattan and she was never looking back. Her parents had sobbed at her news, at her change in attitude, at the newfound callousness in her demeanor.

She never cared enough to cry anymore.


	3. Chapter 3

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as Benson gave him the bad news. He hadn’t thought his day could get any worse, and yet, here he sat. Lately, he hadn’t been able to sleep well, hadn’t been able to focus on his work without consuming a larger amount of caffeine than normal. God, he could really use coffee. But at least his headache had started to subside.

“I’m sorry, Barba, but she just won’t testify. She’s terrified of him. Not that I blame her.”

“This is the absolute last thing I need. None of you could convince her?” he gritted his teeth in preparation as he watched Benson’s eyes grow colder at his words.

“Oh, _I’m sorry_ , Barba. How exactly do you suggest I go about this? Bully her? Like her rapist!?”

“That’s not what I meant and you kno—“

“Alright, come on, hey. We still have a pretty strong case, am I right, Counselor? I mean, we got DNA and witness testimonies and the wire transfer from him tryin’ to pay her off.”

He hadn’t wanted to tell them, hadn’t wanted to tell the victim, but it wasn’t looking too good. People in his office were already taking bets and he was not the favorite to win.

“Normally, yes. But this guy has all the odds stacked in his favor,” he put up a finger as he countered each of Carisi’s points. “DNA; he’ll claim consensual. Witnesses; they’re spotty at best, any cut-rate defense attorney can discredit them. Especially since it happened at night. And the wire-transfer; he’ll make up some story about how she begged or blackmailed him for money.”

“Ok, so then we can use—“

He didn’t even wait to hear what obscure legal strategy Carisi was about to mention. Each and everyone of them had already run through his mind a dozen times. And frankly, he was too annoyed to listen to any more of Sonny’s attempts to impress him.

“No. It’s not just that. This guy is likable, he’s handsome, he’s charismatic. He’s going to get up on stand and seduce the jury into thinking he’s a great guy.” He shook his head, “And to make matters worse, he has one of the best lawyers in the city. A new one from California, who I have yet to go up against, so I can’t predict what her moves will be.”

Even Benson looked surprised at that, “I thought he was using Buchanan?”

Maybe now they would finally understand what had him so worried, “Nope. Dropped him like a hot potato when Evelyn Burke agreed to take on his case. For an increased price, of course. Apparently, she makes Buchanan look like a kitten.”

“Oh man, I’ve heard of her! She’s the one who got the ‘SoHo Strangler’ off as her first case here!”

“That would be the one, Carisi. She seemed to prefer working murder cases but I guess the right amount can make any criminal desirable. Defense lawyers are such lovely people, aren’t they?” He felt a smirk pull at his lip.

“You know she used to be an ADA though, right, Counselor? So she knows the tricks of both sides.”

He felt his headache coming back as he stood up and gathered his things, “Yes, thank you, Carisi, for that obvious analysis.” He didn’t wait for a response, just walked away and towards the elevator, towards freedom.

“Hey! Wait a minute, Counselor!”

He still got on the elevator, barely holding the doors as Carisi stood outside them, shifting from foot to foot, “Well?”

“Just, uh, good luck tomorrow. With your case and you know, with, uh, with your…” he made a vague gesture towards his hand as Rafael watched him flounder, “Um, with your soulmate.”

_Fuck _. Rafael felt his eyes go wide as the doors slid shut. He’d thought he had hidden it well, thought he had kept his sleeves pulled down low enough. Of course, though, it would be Carisi to notice the one thing that was really to blame for his awful day, his recent lack of sleep, his current tension in every muscle.__

__He looked down at his wrist, at his clock currently reading: _ _'00:00:01:03:27.'___ _

___One day, three hours, and twenty-seven minutes._ _ _

__He really needed some fucking coffee._ _


	4. Chapter 4

“Yes,” she listened to the voice on the other end as she waited in line, “Yes, I am aware. No, tell him that’s not necessary. I will take care of it myself.” She always had to do everything herself, what was one more task?

She had barely hung up her phone before it started buzzing again. Seeing the name that lit up her screen she sighed, already dreading the conversation that was about to take place. “Hello, mother.”

“Hi, honey! Are you busy?”

“Not particularly, just grabbing some coffee.” The line stepped forward as another customer finished their transaction.

“All that caffeine isn’t good for you, hon.”

“I’ll survive.” She knew her tone was dry. As dry as the gin she liked in her martinis. She felt bad, but she also couldn’t help it. Or maybe she didn’t try to help it? Who could tell? She mostly felt numb, anymore. Which had no doubt been helpful in her meteoric rise through the ranks of New York’s best and brightest and most heartless defense attorneys.

The move had been good to her, but she wasn’t yet sure if it had been good _for_ her.

“One large coffee, cream and sugar, please.” It was her turn to order and she paid before tuning back in to her conversation.

“…we worry about you a lot, sweetheart, all alone in such a big city. And you’re under such pressure in your job, and—“

“Mom…” It was a warning, to not go where she was clearly heading.

“And tomorrow’s a big day for you!” Her mom rushed out the end of her thought before Evelyn could hang up on her. Years since she had last lived at home and her mom still knew her too well, knew what she was trying to avoid.

She let out a big breath, “I know, mother, but I don’t want to talk about it. Not now or tomorrow or next week. I have to go, I have a client waiting for me.”

She didn’t wait for a response, hanging up as she grabbed her coffee. Turning around to leave, she accidentally bumped into the man behind her in line. He stepped back to give her room as she apologized, the thought, _‘sharp suit’_ briefly entering her mind as she looked up.

“No problem, mothers, right?” The well-dressed man gave her a little smirk, probably trying to be friendly but she was not in the mood. Nodding her agreement, she left and headed back to the office, preparing for the meeting with her newest client.

He creeped her out, all slick charm and immoral pride. He had admitted it to her, plain as day, that he had raped that poor girl. So why was she representing him? The money? The easy win? She didn’t know and she didn’t want to think about it for too long. Because thoughts like that interrupted her numbness, her indifference that she stayed cloaked in like a comfort blanket.

‘Everyone deserves a fair trial,’ she snorted to herself. It was basically the mantra of people in her profession, the myth told to sleep better with the knowledge that they had helped a murderer or rapist walk free.

Her client was late, as always. She tried to focus on something else, anything else, but she couldn’t stop her eyes from wandering down. _'00:00:01:02:49.'_ Her wrist always brought up a flood of feelings; writing tomorrow’s date over and over as a little girl, her parent’s marking it on the frame of her baby picture. “The Day” was supposed to be a huge happy affair in her family, and she had wanted that too, but that version of her felt so distant now. 

She had once believed that finding her one person would make her happy, complete. But it was a ridiculous notion, depending so entirely on something that medicine and science couldn’t begin to explain. Now, she just wanted to survive the day and come into as little contact as possible with any humans.

She didn’t want her soulmate, didn’t need her soulmate. In fact, she hoped she was alone, in her office, in exactly _one day, two hours, and forty-nine minutes._


	5. Chapter 5

Rafael had tried to get some sleep, some _much_ needed sleep; tomorrow was an important day in court. But no matter what he did to relax himself, he couldn’t switch off his thoughts and his worries. For so long, his career had been his soulmate. His career would never leave him or sleep with his best friend. People were fickle creatures, he knew, prone to bad decisions based solely on emotions.

And yet, he was currently running on less than three hours of sleep as he paced in his living room as the sun rose.

He knew the horror stories, everyone did. Sad endings to a clock run out. There were absolutely no guarantees in this inevitable game of love. The clock told everyone, down to the minute, when they would see their soulmate. But the numbers didn’t make vows that the soulmate would appear in the form of an unknown individual or the result of immediate attraction. There were sixty whole seconds unaccounted for as the world continued to spin. Sure, some people claim they had felt a spark, a jolt when they touched or looked at their soulmate, but others didn’t. Others spent that minute in acute agony only to come out the other side, no different, still alone.

But the worst part was that there was no promise of matching conclusions. Countless people found their soulmate only to discover that their soulmate’s clock was still ticking. Or had stopped years ago. And what then?

As his alarm rang, he looked down at his wrist; when had this become a habit of his?

_00:00:00:06:03_

He felt weak, if he was being honest with himself. Almost a disappointment to himself that he seemed to be changing his tune so completely as his time drew closer. But he felt jittery when he thought about six hours from now. He knew he was scheduled to be in court this morning so unless he was destined for the stenographer, he should be done by noon. Should he go out to eat? But how would he know which restaurant to choose?

Scolding himself for being silly, he decided to push the thought out of his mind as he got dressed. There was no particular reason, he told himself, as he donned his favorite suit that morning.

\------------

Benson and Carisi were waiting on the courthouse steps for him. He wondered if Carisi had mentioned to Benson what today was for Rafael, if Carisi had done the math that Rafael’s clock was currently ticking at one hour and some-odd minutes left. The three of them went inside to wait with the victim.

Mia was understandably nervous, victims often were so Rafael tried to calm her by again explaining the procedure of what would happen in today’s session. As Benson took over the reassuring, Rafael felt his eye caught by a young brunette pacing in the corner of the hall, talking intently into her phone. He let out a chuckle when he realized it was the same woman from the coffee cart yesterday, the one who had bumped into him.

He had an unrealistic urge to go ask her if she was talking to her mom again, but settled instead for watching her. Yesterday, he had noticed how good she smelled as she stood in front of him, but he hadn’t been ready for the blue eyes that had looked up at him. There was no doubt that she was beautiful, likely many men thought it, so he had tried to be friendly, tried his attempt at a little fast flirting. Whether it was him or her phone call or her personality, she clearly had not be in the mood, only giving him a nod before stalking away.

How he hadn’t immediately recognized her as a lawyer, he didn’t know. The mark of their profession oozed from every aspect of her body language, and the black pencil skirt and dark red blouse that fit her perfectly.

He briefly wondered if she could be his soulmate but tossed the thought out again before it had time to attach. No doubt the fates considered him too old for her. She had stopped her pacing by the time the courtroom cleared of it’s previous occupants.

The four of them entered the room together. Benson, Carisi, and Mia sitting behind him as he moved to stand at the prosecutor’s desk. He snuck a quick peek at his clock, _00:00:00:00:19._ That wasn’t enough time for today’s session. Maybe he was going to end up with the stenographer?

His palms were getting sweaty with his current train of thought so he tried to re-focus on his curiosity about finally getting to meet the infamous Evelyn Burke.

But the defense’s side remained oddly empty as everyone filed in and settled in their seats. With only a minute remaining before court was called into session, the door behind him opened and in strode his mystery woman.

 _What?_ There was no way _she_ could be Burke, right? In all the gossip surrounding her, there had been no mention about how attractive she was, or how young. She looked barely out of law school for fuck’s sake! How did someone so new already become as jaded as her reputation suggested?

He turned to Olivia in confusion but she only shrugged at him. There was no denying it though, as she moved to stand behind the defense’s table, placing herself confidently in the spot reserved for first chair.

He realized he was staring, as she looked over at him. But if there was any recognition for him, her eyes did not betray it before she turned back towards the front. He too faced forward as the judge entered, calling for everyone to rise. No sooner had the room started to sit again, when his mystery—he shook his head, he couldn’t call her that anymore—when Burke asked for permission to approach the bench.

“You seem to have lost your client, Ms. Burke. Am I correct in thinking you are about to ask for a reschedule?”

“Yes, your Honor. I was just informed that my client is currently in the hospital with appendicitis. He will be undergoing surgery, immediately.”

“I assume you have no objects to this request, Mr. Barba?”

“None, your Honor.”

“Very well, then the court is adjourned.”

Burke wasted no time in picking up her briefcase and departing from the room. With the next case starting, Rafael took Mia and the detectives to an empty meeting room to explain what was happening. Opening the door when he was done, his sleeve slipped high enough that he could see his _00:00:00:00:04._

 _Four minutes?_ Maybe it was Benson? Carisi had left to take Mia home so they were alone as they headed back into the main hallway. There was no way, right? He knew that her clocked had already stopped, years ago, the day she met her former partner.

Oh god, but there _was_ no guarantee that his soulmate would love him back. Even though he had never felt anything more than friendship for Olivia, he felt dizzy as his thoughts spiraled—

“Mr. Barba? I don’t believe we’ve officially met.” He turned as Burke approached him. It was enough, to clear his mind of any soulmate speculations, as he wondered what she wanted with an introduction.

It was pure business instinct, when he took her offered hand tightly in his own for a handshake.

 _Fuck!_ He felt like he had just been electrocuted. He quickly pulled his hand back, shaking it before looking down in confusion. _00:00:00:00:00._ His number, or lack thereof now, seemed to be glowing on his skin, the only thing he could see. Burke gasped, as she took a step away from him, drawing his attention back up. The two of them wore identical expressions of shock and disbelief.

But he _had_ to be sure. So he crossed every boundary of social propriety, gripping her wrist before she could turn away. He took a deep breath to steady himself, before he lifted the sleeve of her shirt…

 _00:00:00:00:00._ And hers was glowing too.


	6. Chapter 6

Evelyn had slept great, the deep sleep of a person in denial. She had comforted herself, the night before, that just because she _had_ a soulmate out there, it didn’t have to change anything. Because if the clocks were a countdown to fate, the rest of the responsibility was still in the hands of humans. And people were fickle creatures, she knew, prone to bad decisions based solely on emotions.

Talk shows were full of titles like “My Soulmate Has Another Soulmate,” and “What To Do When You Don’t Find Your Soulmate.” In either of those scenarios, she was going to do nothing. If Ryan Gosling ran screaming up to her, dipping her low for a kiss, right as her clock hit zero, she was going to do nothing. Alright, _maybe_ she’d reconsider then but that wasn’t going to happen. Nothing was going to happen. She no longer believe the stories of a jolt of electricity being experienced.

She didn’t toss, didn’t turn, didn’t dream about anything. Just slept soundly, waking only when her alarm blared at it’s usual time, 6am.

There was no glance down at her wrist as she showered, put on makeup, ate breakfast. She didn’t see her own _‘00:00:00:06:03′_ , didn’t do the math to figure out she would meet her soulmate just after noon. Her entire morning was an exercise in self-control, a stubborn refusal to even acknowledge her numbers.

And she didn’t think twice about the outfit she pulled on that morning.

\------------

She was pacing, livid, as she tried to control her voice and her expressions. “He _what?!_ ”

“The doctors said it’s likely appendicitis. They’re going to run some more tests but if that’s what it is, he’ll be scheduled right away for surgery.”

She knew it wasn’t rational but she had a strange suspicion that her client had somehow managed to inflame his own appendix. _Just to piss her off._ If she was lucky though, maybe he’d die before she had to see him again. He was so disgustingly sinister, always sending her ominous grins and lewd jokes that he probably thought were charming. Like she didn’t know he was fond of rape.

The session in front of hers had been running long but finally the courtroom was clearing out. “Alright, I have to go. Court is starting.”

As she entered the room, she did her best to not look at the victim, but she couldn’t help it. The poor girl looked so small, so sad, so scared. Not that Evelyn blamed her. She didn’t deserve what had happened to her, _no one_ deserved that. Evelyn quickly walked by, moving to stand behind the defense table.

This was why she preferred murder cases. There she never had to see the living aftermath of the destruction caused by her clients. She sighed, well at least her current client wouldn’t be here today so his victim was spared having to be in his presence.

She could feel eyes on her, as she turned to her right. Locking eyes with the attorney currently staring at her, she instantly recognized him as that man from the coffee cart yesterday, the one she had bumped into. His suit was somehow even fancier today. He certainly had style, she’d give him that.

And at least he wasn’t looking at her like most of the prosecutors she went up against. They always thought she was too young, too cruel, too _something._ This opponent only looked curious, attentive.

Breaking eye contact, she turned towards the front of the room. She’d heard of him, of course, Rafael Barba. A prosecutor with a reputation for astute wit, for beating all the odds, for getting guilty verdicts in cases considered un-winnable. She had been looking forward to finally sparring with him in court, she figured he’d be able to give her a run for her money.

She wouldn’t make it easy, of course, she had her notoriety to consider but maybe, just _maybe,_ he’d beat her. Maybe he’d come out the victor and get her scumbag client sent to jail for life. Deep, deep down, she hoped that would be the outcome.

The judge had entered and Evelyn waited only as long as absolutely necessary before asking for permission to approach the bench.

“You seemed to have lost your client, Ms. Burke. Am I correct in thinking you are about to ask for a reschedule?” She held in a snort. No, she’d be _blessed_ if she lost her client. God, she was being dark today. 

“Yes, your Honor. I was just informed that my client is currently in the hospital with appendicitis. He will be undergoing surgery, immediately.”

“I assume you have no objects to this request, Mr. Barba?” Evelyn hadn’t realized, or maybe she had assumed based on his clearly Latin name, but he had deep green eyes. A lovely shade, really, not that she cared.

“None, your Honor.”

“Very well, then this meeting is adjourned.”

She walked back to her desk, grabbing her briefcase before leaving to make another phone call. After informing her boss of the changes to her case and her client’s hospitalized status, she didn’t notice the _‘00:00:00:00:03′_ on her clock as she hung up.

Hearing voices headed down the hall towards her, she recognized one of them belonged to Barba. Well, now was as good of a time as any to introduce herself. Maybe she should ask him to make a deal, to plead her client down, to save the victim the pain of a trial.

Her case was solid but she knew that her thoughts about her client were bordering on unethical and the trial hadn’t even started yet. She did not savor the thought of having to sit next to him everyday for months, having to convince the jury he was a good guy, having to destroy a young girl’s credibility.

“Mr. Barba? I don’t believe we’ve officially met.” He looked a little confused as he turned around, likely wondering why she was introducing herself. But he took her offered hand quickly enough, holding it tight in a handshake.

An alarming shiver overtook her entire body, spreading goosebumps in it’s wake. It reminded her of playing in the snow as a child. How finally entering her house afterwards had caused an extra moment of chill before the inviting heat would seep into her skin, into her bones.

Like he was too warm and she was too cold and the clashing temperatures resulted in a physical expression.

Even stranger, he had quickly pulled his hand away as if she had shocked him. He shook his hand, looking down at his palm for any evidence of foul play. His sleeve had slipped down in the movement and now he was looking at his clock, at his numbers. From her close distance she could make out the small _’00:00:00:00:00’_ on his wrist - only his was glowing.

 _What was happening?_ She’d never heard of the numbers emitting any light so she gasped, taking a step back. He was fast though, faster than her, and now she found her own wrist trapped in strong grasp.

She hadn’t yet thought about her own numbers, had just assumed that his clock had run out a long time ago. He was quite a bit older than her, with his distinguished sort of handsome.

So it came as a complete surprise to her when he stepped closer, when he pulled down her sleeve, when she saw the matching number on her wrist.

 _'00:00:00:00:00.'_ And why was hers glowing too?


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two dividers back to back equals a change in POV

Oh, man, he _had_ been a fool. How could he have ever believed that finding his soulmate wouldn’t be the greatest feeling in the world? Even if he wasn’t hers, _she_ was _his._ He knew it, he could feel it so deeply, like it was written on his very DNA.

She was perfect, in every way, so perfect for him. Her big blue eyes, the color and depth of a mountain lake. Her long, brown hair with just a tint of red that he longed to wrap around his fingers. Her pink lips that looked soft and kissable. 

He wanted to kiss her and keep kissing her and die kissing her.

Listen to him, waxing poetic about a woman he had just met. What would his colleagues, friends, family say if they could hear his thoughts now? He didn’t care though, they couldn’t even begin to understand.

He had to work hard to contain the laughter of pure joy that was threatening to explode from within him. He had been a fool, to write off the concept of soulmates so easily. And now fate was laughing at him, laughing at the way he was drowning in his own amorous thoughts.

It had been incredible, that shock of electricity. Like he had been dead before and now his heart had been restarted, given a second chance at life.

Had she felt it? She hadn’t reacted violently, not like him. But he had the proof in his hand, on her wrist, the matching _’00:00:00:00:00’_ with the small scar running through the middle of her clock. He rubbed his thumb lightly over the line, wondering what had happened there.

And they were both _glowing_. He’d never heard of that before, but surely it was a good sign? Of course it was. Their love was simply the first of it’s kind. 

He wondered how much time had passed, how long the two of them had stood frozen in their own little universe. It felt like hours, months, years. As his eyes traveled back up, he couldn’t wait to look into her eyes, to see if she was feeling everything in equal. His green gaze tangled with her blue, leaving the world in a turquoise hue.

\------------

\------------

She didn’t know what to do, what to say, what to feel. It was all happening too fast, too sudden. It wasn’t _supposed_ to happen at all. She stared at his face as he stared at her clock, shivering again when he ran his thumb over her scar.

He was certainly handsome, she could never try to deny that, would never want to. The green of his eyes reminded her of summers spent in Washington, careless days spent playing under a canopy of pines and firs. She could just make out a little grey, peppering here and there in his dark brown hair. And she liked the lines on his face; the ones that ran across his forehead, the crinkles near his eyes, the brackets on each side of his mouth. They were all signs of an expressive man, of a life well-lived. 

Barely taller than her in her heels, he was at the perfect height for kissing. _Kissing?_ Where had _that_ come from?

She felt confused, and vaguely like she might throw up. Like she had just run a marathon she had never trained for, had been thrust into as the starting gun fired.

Was this how everyone experienced it? Back when she was a girl, when she had imagined this day countless times, she had thought it would be more…passionate? A brutal combining of two souls. But it wasn’t, not for her.

It felt like there was a piece of him in everyone she had ever known. Or maybe vice versa? But she definitely didn’t feel anything uncontrollable for this man, she felt…comfortable? Sedated, even. She felt like she had finally come home, finally found shelter in the middle of a storm. Like her favorite comfort blanket of apathy was instead being replaced by the warmth of a crackling fire. 

And it was terrifying. She _could_ identify that feeling. Almost how a poor trapped bunny would feel in a hunter’s snare, knowing she couldn’t escape, suspended, waiting for the inevitable.

She wanted to leave, wanted to run, but she was captured in the potent gaze of his eyes. He opened his mouth before immediately shutting it again. He seemed to be trying to focus, trying to find the right words. But what could he say? What sentence could possibly come out of his mouth in a complex time like this?

Apparently, he agreed because he only offered her a small, shy smile before saying a simple, “Hi.”


	8. Chapter 8

“Hey.”

Well, at least she had responded. A breathless sound that seemed to hold his entire heart in it’s grasp. Had ‘hey’ always been his favorite word?

She looked scared. He didn’t want her to be scared, he never wanted her to feel the emotion again. He wanted to hold her close to him and shield her from all the bad in this world. But more importantly, he wanted to _know_ her. Wanted to take the time to hear her every word, to learn her every thought. Where should he start?

“So, this is a little awkward.” Honesty had always served him well before. She just let out a nervous bubble of laughter as he continued, “Do you want to go get some lunch?”

She looked down at her feet as she bit her lip, clearly holding a debate with herself. He stayed quiet, to let her think, to not rush her. He’d waited forty-one years for her, what was another minute?

Eventually, she looked back up, the fear in her eyes had been replaced by doubt but she still answered him, a tentative “Yes.”

He’d been wrong, earlier. ‘Hi’ wasn’t his favorite word, it was ‘Yes.’ He could feel the corners of his mouth pulling into a smirk as he turned to lead her from the courthouse. Barely taking a step, he noticed Benson was waiting on a bench, waiting to continue discussing their case. The case where he was prosecutor and Evelyn was defense.

“Oh, shit.” He had tried to bite back his words, but it was too late. Evelyn’s eyes found his, the doubt in their depth now raging. “No, not, uh, about us,” he tried to explain, “What do we do about our case?”

That seemed to throw her for a loop. He briefly felt stuck, backed into a corner. This was his job, he _loved_ his job, he couldn’t give up the case, could he? For a woman he didn’t know? But every feeling of loneliness and emptiness that had long plagued him came flooding back and he knew, _of course_ he could.

“Never mind. I’ll need to recuse myself, obviously. It certainly would not be ethical to stay on, not now, not with how I feel.”

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‘Not with how he felt.’ What did that mean? It didn’t matter at the moment, because she saw her chance and she was taking it.

She started shaking her head, frantically, as she gripped his arm tighter, “No! You can’t do that! I’ll recuse myself.”

“That’s a lot of money you’d be giving up, Evelyn.”

She’d never particularly been a fan of her name, but she thought she could learn to love it - if he was always the one to say it.

“So? I don’t care about that. You need to stay on, it _has_ to be you.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re the only person who might be able to win.”

He seemed truly shocked at that, like his brain was working overtime to decipher her words. It took him a few tries before he could respond, “You want _me_ to _win?”_

“Yes. I was actually about to ask you if we could make a deal, before…well, you know, before…that.” She made a vague motion between their two chests. But he seemed to understand her, and his eyes seemed to grow warmer, more affectionate. She really needed to stop looking into his eyes, she told herself, but she didn’t try drag her gaze away.

He nodded at her before giving her a small smile, “We can talk about it.”

She noticed a woman approaching, the same one who had been with Rafael when Evelyn introduced herself. That moment felt so long ago, as if a hazy recollection of a distant memory. Had it really only been a couple minutes?

Rafael introduced her as ‘Benson.’ Ahh, so this was Olivia Benson. She’d heard about the Lieutenant of the SVU, a woman who gave a little piece of her heart to each victim, a woman with her own troubled past.

His introductions continued, “And Benson, this is Evelyn, my, um,” He let out a little laugh, like he couldn’t believe the next words out of his mouth, “My soulmate, as it were.”

If Evelyn had been expecting any sort of hostility from Benson over the case, she was mistaken. There was only kindness in the older woman’s eyes as she pulled Evelyn in for a hug.

“Oh thank god! We’ve all been waiting for this moment for a long time!”

Rafael looked grumpy, putting on a pout at Benson’s words, “Excuse me? What is that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t get prickly, Barba. We think a little love would do you a world of good, that’s all.”

Love? Evelyn didn’t think she felt love. No, she knew she didn’t. She liked him, yes, but she couldn’t possibly love a man she had only just meant, love a man only because her clock matched his. She knew she had trust issues, but who could blame her? This man, this… _soulmate_ , would still have to earn her love. She was no longer able to apply the term nor the feeling so liberally.

“Well, we’re on our way to lunch, so I don’t have time to argue with you.”

“A true first. See, she’s changing you already.” Benson only winked, letting out a cheerful laugh as she turned and walked away.

He looked embarrassed at her words, at this newfound discovery but he recovered quickly, raising his arm in an ‘after you’ manner. “Shall we, Evelyn?”

As they walked out into the dazzling autumn sun, she found herself wondering if it was her imagination or if the temperature outside had risen drastically in the last hour. She also noticed that he still held her hand; he hadn’t once let it got.


	9. Chapter 9

“Tell me about yourself.”

“What do you want to know?”

 _"Everything.”_ He meant it too. He wished someone had recorded every second of her life on video. He’s gladly give up the next twenty-some years of his life to watch that tape. But that would be weird, and impossible, so he’d have to hear it straight from her mouth instead.

“Alright, let’s start with something easy. How old are you?”

“Twenty-nine. You?”

Mm, well, she was older than he thought. That was a good start.

“Forty-one.” He immediately felt ancient, hearing their two ages side by side. Was a twelve-year difference too much? His nerves came back in full force as he watched her face, waiting for a sign that she would now consider him too old for her.

Evelyn offered him a shy smile, “Really? I had guessed closer to mid-thirties.” She didn’t seem upset by the larger gap though, and he let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding.

She seemed to be warming up, thawing with each question he sent her way while they waited for their food to arrive. They learned about each other’s families and friends and childhoods; he was glad that hers was so idyllic.

He even mentioned his father, how he was dead now; only a painful memory of alcohol and fists and anger. Rafael told how he had promised himself he would never be like his old man. The thought had slipped out of his mouth unbidden, but he didn’t regret it, would never regret that she was the first person he had confided this in.

They breezed through high school and college as they ate and he loved the look of respect in her eyes after he told her about his scholarships to Harvard and finishing third in his class.

“Harvard, huh? I was a Stanford girl, myself.”

“Well,” he gave her his signature teasing grin, “We can’t all go to the second best law school in the country.”

She only giggled, responding with a smirk that impressed even him, “Ah, but which is better, Rafael, being third in class at the second best school or being second in class at the third?”

Oh god, she was perfect. He loved the way she could handle his wit and volley it back in impressive fashion. The way she furrowed her brow when she was thinking, deciding how to respond.

And the way she said his name - it was enough to block out every hurtful recollection of the times he had heard it mocked. The blue-bloods at Harvard dramatically rolling the ‘R’ to further drive home the point that he was not one of them.

He thought he could learn to love his name if she was the one always saying it.

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She found herself surprised at how easy he was to talk to, how open he was about his own scarred past. So far, it had been a perfect meal. Evelyn couldn’t shake the feeling that she had known this man for all of her life. And with each passing minute, she felt herself giving in more and more to the aura of comfort that surrounded Rafael.

Too soon, his phone started buzzing. He looked down, back at her, and back down again, clearly debating. But she understood. She was actually surprised that it hadn’t been her phone to interrupt them.

“Answer it.” He looked guilty so she pushed his phone closer to him, “Seriously.”

He still seemed miserable, likely knowing this was to be the end of their meal. “ADA Barba. Uh huh. Uh huh. And what did he say?” He glanced at his watch before sighing, “No, I’m nearby. I can be there in ten minutes.”

She put her hand over his before he could explain, “It’s fine, Rafael, really. If anyone can understand, it’s me.” He seemed a little disoriented, staring at her hand for a minute before flipping his over and inter-locking their fingers.

“Thank you.” It was quiet, with an amount of reverence that made her blush.

“No problem. I have to go talk to my boss anyway, about stepping down from the case.” He was about to argue, so she continued, “This isn’t up for debate. I couldn’t be happier to never see my client again. You can pay me back by putting him in jail.”

He seemed distressed now, but she wasn’t sure over what. He didn’t balk, however, only held her hand as he paid for the check before leading her onto the street. They both hesitated, hands still intertwined, a picture of mirrored uncertainty.

“Can I see you again? I’d _love_ to see you again.”

She still felt insecure, unsettled by the events of the past hour. But she knew she wouldn’t, _couldn’t_ say ‘no.’ She knew it the way that a bird instinctually flies south for winter, a necessity of survival.

“Of course, Rafael, I’d like that.” She didn’t give him a chance to respond, instead digging her business card out of her purse. She pressed it into his hand and moved closer, leaving him a delightful shade of pink when she planted a quick kiss to his cheek.

Turning on her heel, she walked away, feeling his eyes on her back until she turned the corner.


	10. Chapter 10

He was dreading this, having to face the firing squad at the precinct - pun intended. Barely getting a foot across the threshold, he found them all poised, waiting for his entrance. As soon as they saw him, they all erupted into exaggerated cheers, clapping and whistling like he had won the lottery. 

Although, that description _did_ feel accurate. Not that he was going to tell them that. No, he was going to hit them with his toughest scowl, a foolproof plan to stop this ridiculous display.

So why wasn’t it working? Even Carisi continued on with his obnoxious celebrating.

“Alright, stop.” The group only laughed, delighting in his distress. “Seriously, stop. Because I’m going to be furious if you dragged me away from lunch for this.” There, that worked.

They were all quiet for a moment, before the roar of amusement started again, louder now.

“He’s only mad because he had to leave his _soooulmaaate!”_ The singsong quality to Fin’s last word only egged them on. Well, if they were going to behave like children, then so could he.

He planted himself in a chair, stubbornly crossing his arms while he waited for chuckles to finally die out.

Carisi came over and clapped his shoulder, “Congrats, Counselor, we’re all really happy for you, you know? Benson says she’s beautiful, even if you are too old for her.”

He turned to scowl at her, and she correctly surmised that the age gap comment had hit a nerve with him. “I’m only kidding, Barba, you two make a lovely couple. Even if she is representing the worst of New York.”

“She’s actually on her way to recuse herself.” He mumbled it low, undecided on whether he wanted them to hear it or not. But of course, Carisi’s razor-sharp hearing caught it. How aggravating, was the man half dog?

“No kiddin’. That’s a lot of money lost for her,” he let out a whistle as he mentally tallied the sum.

“Yes, I’m sure it is.” He answered as dry as possible, “Now, can we please get on with our business?”

“Sure, Barba, we wouldn’t want work to interfere with true love,” Benson smirked at him, but thankfully she turned towards the board and started to discuss the case.

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“Come in!”

Evelyn paused, unsure of how to break the news that she could no longer defend her client. She had picked the partner that she thought would be most likely to understand, but it was still a crap-shoot. Turning down cases like this was simply not done.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Peters.”

“Ah, Evelyn, hello. Come in, come in! I was actually just going over your case notes for this rape trial.”

She sat down in one of the plush, leather chairs in front of her boss’s desk, while he continued, “Excellent work, really. I’m very impressed. But not surprised. You’ve done nothing but impress me since you got here.”

He was smiling his paternal smile at her. She liked Mr. Peters. He was kind and honest and she hoped he would still be as thrilled with her after this meeting.

“Actually, Mr. Peters, that’s what I came to talk to you about. I ran into Mr. Barba today and—“

His chuckle cut her off, “Yes. He’s a very impressive fellow, isn’t he. But you needn’t worry, my dear, I have no doubt that you can parry his every attack in court.”

She tried not to let out a snort at the thought that her boss would soon find out _exactly_ how impressive she found the prosecutor. “That’s not exactly the problem, you see, today was the first day I met him and, well, he’s my soulmate. Or rather, we’re each other’s soulmates.” She lifted up her sleeve to display her still glowing, now empty clock. Honestly, was it going to glow forever? That would be a nuisance at night.

“Oh.” They could have heard a pin drop in the silence that followed. Evelyn felt like she might perish from anxiety before he shook his head, a kind smile now on his face. “Well, this _is_ surprising. Although, a fair match, if I do say so myself. How very interesting.”

“What?”

He let out a chuckle now, one filled with emotion, “I actually met my wife, and soulmate, as it were, in a very similar fashion.” His voice trailed off with memory. “But. That is a story for another time, my dear. Of course, you should not spend your first months as soulmates locked in battle in court. Think nothing more of it.”

She stood up to shake his hand, thanking him as he wished her luck.

Just as she was about to close the door, he called out, “Oh? Evelyn?”

“Mmm?”

“Is there someone in particular you would assign to this case now?”

If she had her way, she’d pick Jenkins. He would never stand a chance against Rafael. “No, not really.”

“Very well. I think I’ll put Jenkins on it…”

Well, thats two for two today, she thought as she closed the door, not catching the sly grin on her boss’s face behind her.

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“Is everything alright, Mr. Barba?”

“Hm? Oh, yes, Carmen, thank you.”

She closed the door again, likely wondering why he was pacing around his office like a caged tiger. He had been feeling so anxious, more and more with each passing second, if he were being honest. And he was debating whether it was too early to call Evelyn. He’d only left her five hours ago? He checked his watch again; almost five and a half hours now.

Was it too soon? Would he appear desperate? _Could_ one be too eager, in situations like this? He wasn’t sure and he was tired of the strain it was putting on his nerves. Giving up, he picked up his phone, hitting the call button next to her name. He had programmed her number into his phone immediately, of course.

“Hello?”

“Hi? Evelyn, it’s Raf—“

She cut him off before he could finish his name, “Yes, Rafael, I know. Hi.”

There she went again, with her perfect way of saying ‘yes.’ And he hoped he wasn’t imagining the hint of smile in her voice.

“I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon. It’s been, what, five hours?”

“Five and a half.” He had answered too promptly, he knew that, god, he must sound like a fool. But she only laughed, a lovely tinkling sound that he longed to hear in person.

Forging ahead, he figured he might as well ask, might as well ease his mind, one way or the other. “I was wondering if you would like to get dinner with me? Tonight? If you’re free?”

There was a long pause and he could hear in the background what sounded like her writing something down. “I’d love to.”

He let out a happy sigh, “Excellent. Does eight o’clock work for you?”

“Yes.” Another ‘yes.’ He was considering getting the word tattooed on him, possibly placed right under his clock? He let out a soft groan, how sappy could he be?

“Then I’ll pick you up at eight?”

“Of course. I’ll text you my address. See you soon, Rafael.”

He had to fight to control his urge to laugh out loud, or else Carmen would really think he was losing his mind in here. But, maybe he was? Either way, he felt amazing.


End file.
